Monday, April 12, 2021

Musical Interlude

I don't care about Willie's bizarro hindoo theology. Drop of rain, again and again and again? Really? I just like the tune.



Sunday, April 11, 2021

A Short Sunday Sermon


Then saith he to Thomas, (in the upper room) Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing. Jn. 20:27

Thomas wanted physical proof of the resurrection and got it, the risen Christ was touchable, tangible. He had risen bodily from the tomb and, on reflection, anything less doesn't cut it.

What dies when we die, the spirit? Hardly, it doesn't have any physical parts to decay and return to the dust from which they came. The body, notoriously, does; we don't bounce like we used to, to put it mildly. So what has to be resurrected? The body, rejoined to the spirit, between them both making up the whole person.

Without this, we're left with spirit only or in other words, a shade or ghost, and the rising becomes a haunting. This is not the case in the upper room on the 8th day, the Sunday following the Resurrection. On the contrary, Jesus stands before Thomas, the whole man, body and spirit, risen from the grave.

In an explosion of divine power, Christ had taken humanity to a new dimension of existence, a new mode of imperishable, glorified being. No wonder Thomas fell down and worshiped, he touched the Glory, "My Lord and my God." And note this.

When Christ appeared to the disciples on Easter Sunday, the "doors were shut" for fear of the same people who'd crucified Jesus crucifying them. For fear of death. With the reality of the resurrection upon them, made concrete on the 8th day, the fear was gone. And so they went out and died in the proclamation of the Faith, knowing they would rise in and with their Lord. 

What hope! As opposed to the dismal, wretched, con-trick despair of our disbelieving age. God grant us the faith, hope and love of the disciples in the upper room, and with Thomas the grace to fall down and believe, "My Lord and my God."

Christus Surrexit,


Saturday, April 10, 2021

First Chaplain Of The Confederacy


Did you know that the Confederacy's first military chaplain was a Jesuit priest, Fr. Darius Hubert? I didn't until recently, thanks to Katherine Jeffrey's excellent biography, First Chaplain Of The Confederacy. Hubert served with the Army of Northern Virginia throughout the war and was present at the major battles in the eastern theater as well as, curiously, seeing chaplaincy aboard the ironclad Merrimac.

He was known for outstanding pastoral devotion to the men he served and rose above denominational differences to work alongside protestant chaplains as "brothers in Christ." A remarkable man who bravely followed the call of God regardless of danger to himself, whether on the battlefield or in the hospital wards of those dying with Yellow Fever.

Hubert was a believer in the Cause but graciously so, urging reconciliation and healing after the conflict. He carried a Yankee bullet on his person, which had failed to kill him, as a sign of God's providence and protection. He died in 1893 at the age of 70.

We need more priests like him.

God bless,


Friday, April 9, 2021

Rest in Peace Prince Philip


Here in the States we woke up to the tragic news that Prince Philip had died, at the age of 99. He fought in the titanic war against Fascism and the Nazis, serving honorably as a decorated officer in the Royal Navy, with a final rank of Commander in 1953.

The same people who believe gender's divorced from biology believe Philip was a Fascist, despite fighting against Fascists in the war. Perhaps it was an internicene feud? Then again, the Prince's detractors may be suffering from dropped on head as infant syndrome.

I vote for the latter, but regardless, his death surely marks the closing of an age, an age in many respects better than our own.

Rest in Peace and Rise in Glory,


Thursday, April 8, 2021

Dallas - The Way of The Ninja


A leader is best when people barely know he exists, when his work is done, his aim fulfilled, they will say: we did it ourselves.

It's Easter Week and you're in Dallas, so what do you do? Grill, go to Hunky's for delicious burgers, help out with yard work, and then ride into the great Metrosprawl. Which is what I did, arriving at the Preston Center in an unmarked white F150. Comms are important, so I texted GWB in Georgia.

"Sometimes what I do is I go to the Orvis store then stop at Half Price Books before strolling over to REI."

"What?!? The way of the Ninja."

"Exactly. I'm outside the Rolex store right now."

"I wouldn't mind a stainless sport Rolex."

"Same. It'll go with the Lambo."

A typical dog scene in the Preston Center Orvis

But this wasn't about buying watches, it was about getting a tin of Barbour's "Wax Thornproof Dressing" to refinish a coat. That meant going into Orvis via the car park entrance, because Covid. You see, you're a lot less likely to catch the plague if you go into the hideously expensive country sports store from the rear entrance.

Waxy mission accomplished, I drove down Northwest Highway to Half price Books, a great barn of a place, full of books and empty of people. A kindly old gentleman told me to put a mask on as I entered the warehouse of cut price books, and I did, not wanting to cause a scene, "Oh, thank you! I forgot!" Whatever, no one was there because Covid, and I walked unseen, ninja style, to the scyfy shelves and bought some books. Result.

Next stop REI, which is conveniently next to HPB. There was a special Covid decontamination unit in front the great outdoors industry co-op, and I ignored that because a. it's stupid and b. ninjas don't do that. Speaking of Lao Tse, I bought an REI shirt, which is white and made in Thailand. Yes, it was expensive, but shaolin doesn't come cheap.

Then back to Dallas HQ and the important task of re-waxing my wax coat. It's not hard, just rub the wax into the cloth and let the beast bake in the sun for a few hours. You can and probably should make your own wax mixture, which I've done, but I bought convenience. Ma LSP looked at the refurbed coat and remarked, "That's pretty old timey," And so it is, I like that.

Back in the country now, and I like that too.

God bless,


Monday, April 5, 2021

What Have We Here?


You know what it's like. Roll up to the familial homestead for Easter festivity and there it is, one of the guests has a "prays well together" sticker on their car. Really? When was the last time you offered one up at the local mosque while sacrificing to Kali?

Being a polite and hospitable LSP, I didn't say that and resisted the urge to sharpie in some runes on the offensive signage. Still, you can imagine the scene, "What, you don't pray pray well with Armanen worshippers of the Victorious Sun? Maybe you need to be more inclusive." You get the point, but she wouldn't have done, because all religions same. Like, we all pray! And I want world peace! 

So let's test the theory out, here's some Aztec worship. Have a look:

Cortez and the gang felt they had come across a nation of devil worshippers and perhaps they had, the walls of Mexico City's great pyramid dripped with the blood of an estimated 20,000 human sacrifices, annually. They ate the victims too, coexist with that.

Point being, all religions are not the same and given that everyone has one, better choose wisely as opposed to pretending that none of it really matters.

Christus Surrexit,


Happy Easter!


I know, a day late and a dollar short, but Happy Easter!

Christ has risen,


Saturday, April 3, 2021

Holy Saturday


Here we are, on Holy Saturday, and the body of our Savior lies in the tomb, the fourteenth station. Consider this, by George Herbert:

Oh blessed body!  Whither art thou thrown? 

No lodging for thee, but a cold hard stone?

So many hearts on earth, and yet not one

Receive thee?

Sure there is room within our hearts good store;

For they can lodge transgressions by the score:

Thousands of toys dwell there, yet out of door

They leave thee.

But that which shows them large, shows them unfit.

Whatever sin did this pure rock commit,

Which holds thee now? Who hath indicted it

Of murder?

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee,

And missing this, most falsely did arraign thee;

Only these stones in quiet entertain thee,

And order.

And as of old, the law by heav’nly art,

Was writ in stone;  so thou, which also art

The letter of the word, find’st no fit heart

To hold thee.

Yet do we still persist as we began,

And so should perish, but that nothing can,

Though it be cold, hard, foul, from loving man

Withhold thee.

Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee. 

Herbert was a country parson,  as am I. There's clearly a lot to live up to, eh? 

Light v. Dark,


Friday, April 2, 2021

Good Friday


The Tabernacles are empty, the Altars are stripped, and Christ lays in the tomb. It seems as though Satan has won, and he must have thought so. You can imagine the infernal ecstasy. Imagine, too, the horror of the Adversary as Christ rises from the dead, demolishing the calculus of the Pit.

Consummatum est. It is finished, the perfect sacrifice is made, man is reconciled to God and the powers of Hell cast down, only to rage in fury as they descend into the Lake of Fire. 

They take their followers with them, the followers of the False Prophet Caiaphas, who on the sixth hour of the sixth day stamp their foreheads with the mark of the Beast crying out, "We have no king but Caesar!"

We follow a different King, the Lord of Life, who reigns victorious on the hard wood of the Cross. Satan and death have no power over us.

Rejoice in that and stand firm.

God bless,


Thursday, April 1, 2021

Maundy Thursday Pistol


One of the things which happens on Maundy Thursday is that the priest gets to wash peoples' feet, as Christ washed his disciples' feet. My MC doesn't like it because he thinks it's "hokey," which perhaps it is. That in mind, most definitely a lesson in humility.

Regardless, there I was, about to wash a rancher's right foot, and there on a sock next to his boot was a compact S&W(?), a 9 or 40 I think. So I looked at the pistol, looked at the foot and did some quick math.

Should I bless the pistol and make it part of the rite or not? I chose the latter path, deciding to store up value for a later a date, a churchwide blessing of guns. Go long and hold, went the arithmetic.

Later, at the Pax, I told  my friend, "That was the safest footwashing I've ever seen." He replied, embarrassed, "Padre, I just forgot it was there, in my boot!" He needn't have worried, "Brother, next year we'll make it mandatory."

And that, all five of you readers, is the story of that. A short tale of God, country life and guns in Texas.

God bless,